treppenwitz

Photo Friday (vol. LXIII) [Pina Chama edition]

Yom Ha'Atzma'ut (Israel Independence Day) just wouldn't be the same without our annual outing to volunteer at the local Pina Chama (literally: warm corner), a small prefab building where the communities of Gush Etzion conspire to spoil the men and woman from all over Israel whose service in the IDF brings them to our area.

Throughout the year... Sunday through Thursday from morning 'til evening... any soldier can stop in and find free cold or hot drinks, home baked cookies and cakes (all donated/baked by residents of Gush Etzion)... as well as a couple of volunteer dodim/dodot (aunts and uncles) to make sure everything is served up with a smile.

But on Yom Ha'Atzma'ut all the stops are pulled out and an all-day mangel (BBQ) is arranged for the soldiers.  From 11:00 AM until almost nightfall hundreds of soldiers stop by in Jeeps, ambulances, troop carriers and on foot.  They are tired and dirty and far from family and friends on this holiday... so the communities in our area do everything possible to make sure they feel appreciated.

Burgers, hotdogs, chicken wings, kababs, and even steaks crowd the grill from morning till dusk and a dizzying array of salads, cakes, cookies, drinks and fresh breads round out the meal.

It seems that as soon as a soldier leaves to return to his/her post, another grabs a plate and sits down to eat.  Periodically a radio call comes in with numbers of troops that are stationed in remote outposts who can't make it in to the Pina Chama and the volunteer dodot and dodim fly into action packing up meals to be taken out to them by jeeps that are just leaving.

This year fellow blogger Cara was with us for the holiday and spent her last day in Israel lending a hand serving the troops.  Now the cynical among you might think she was just trying meet some of these cute soldiers, but Cara has a heart of gold and I'm sure that such selfish motives were only 3rd or 4th on her list of reasons for volunteering.  :-)

This first picture is of Gilad (in Red Sox cap) and a friend with a group of soldiers who had just pulled up in their Jeep.  The soldier on the right looks eerily like Psychotoddler:

Next up is a peek inside the Pina Chama.  You'll notice that every inch of wall space and ceiling is crowded with thank you notes scribbled on unit flags, shoulder tags and other military souvenirs left by the grateful soldiers throughout the year.

There were also plenty of tables outside where the overflow crowd enjoyed their meals:

And they just kept arriving...

I wouldn't want anyone to think that only men serve in the field, so here are a couple of some equally tired and dusty Chayalot (female soldiers):

And what about food?  You want to see food?

... and more food (this is some of the volunteers packing meals to send out to soldiers who couldn't make it in from their outposts)...

As usual, I took my place serving as head griller and designated smoke magnet:

This should give you an idea of the yummy selection:

That's about it for pictures this week, but trust me when I tell you that these few images don't even come close to conveying the parade of soldiers that came through the Pina Chama all day or how appreciative they were of a nice Mangel so far from the comfort of home.

If you'd like to make a contribution to the Pina Chama please send checks to:

The Pina Chama
8/2 Rechov Haziporen
Efrat, 90435
ISRAEL

Or to volunteer as a Dod or Doda serving cakes and drinks to the soldiers for a couple of hours during a visit to Israel, please send me an email (treppenwitz AT gmail DOT com) and I will put you in touch with the volunteer coordinator.

Here are the treppenwitz Yom Ha'Atzma'ut posts from the past couple of years:

Last year

Two yeas ago

Shabbat Shalom!

Calling a spade a spade

[I've alluded to this issue a couple of times in gentle responses to commenters, but as I celebrated Israel's birthday yesterday, this topic really began bothering me enough that I felt it deserved its own post.]

When Jews make travel plans to visit England, Japan or Italy, they announce it to the world.  Whether or not they agree with the policies or legitimacy of their destination country, they call the country by name... meaning the modern name the country has chosen for itself. 

Likewise, if someone were planning a business trip to the Czech Republic or Croatia, for example, they wouldn't think of telling friends about their upcoming trip to Czechoslovakia or Yugoslavia. 

Yet a sizable portion of the Jewish community... specifically those in the Haredi and Hardal (Hasidic and 'yeshivish') world... have adopted a code-phrase by which they studiously avoid any overt mention / recognition of the modern State of Israel.  Instead of simply saying, "We're going to Israel at the end of the summer", they say "We're going to 'Eretz Yisroel' ...". 

Now this may seem like a very petty thing about which to gripe but there is a world of complexity and difference behind this seemingly innocuous turn of phrase.  For those not deeply invested in this topic, you need to understand that the basic stumbling blocks stem from two basic, and peripherally related, questions:

1.  Whether or not there is any religious significance to the establishment of the modern Jewish State (and the subsequent in-gathering of the 'exiled' Jews from around the world).

and

2.  Whether or not man (as opposed to G-d) has the right... or even the ability... to bring about the beginning of the promised return of Jews to our land ('Reshit Tzmichat Geulateinu' /First flowering of our redemption).

While there is much debate about what, if any, religious significance can be attributed to the founding of the modern State of Israel, there is little or no argument among Jews as to whether the land itself is intrinsically holy. 

And in terms of religious laws and obligations, even if one allows no possibility that the founders of the State of Israel may have intentionally or inadvertently played a small part in the divine process of redemption, there is also only minor debate over the fact that 'Medinat Yisrael' (the modern State of Israel) and 'Eretz Yisrael' (the Biblical Land of Israel) are clearly defined, overlapping, but perfectly distinct entities. 

My point being that there is really very little room for confusion that would require such careful usage of labels.  Nobody is likely to be tripped up or led astray by a careless use of the word 'Israel'.  So why is it anathema to a sizable portion of my coreligionists to elocute their travel destination as it appears on their e-tickets?

I inwardly cringe when I hear people say they are going to 'Eretz Yisroel" instead of simply saying 'Israel'.   This code-speak formula can't be argued away as a matter of convenience or brevity.  You actually have to add a couple of syllables to employ this expression.

When pressed, some of my black-hat wearing friends have admitted that their choice of words is connected to the issues I've mentioned above... but they insist that they mean no disrespect to the Modern State when they say it.

When I've gently mentioned to commenters my discomfort with this unnecessary distinction, I have received blunt, unhelpful non-sequitur such as: "When I make Aliyah, it will be to Eretz Yisrael. There is no mitzvah to live in medinat Yisrael".

Aside from the fact that nobody has ever made a contrary claim on treppenwitz, what makes the above statement so jarring (not to mention superfluous) is that it leaves the reader with the mistaken impression that the commenter only plans to 'make aliyah' (literally 'go up') to the Land of Israel in Messianic days.  Because if not, it begs the simple question of what justification could be made for allowing the modern State of Israel to shower Olim (those who make aliyah) with generous financial assistance, universal health care and the mantle of citizenship (to name but a few of the aliyah benefits), while all the while the Olim make a studied effort to avoid ever mentioning it by name?

The only parallel I can come up with (and an imperfect one at that) is the concept of accepting Holocaust reparations from Germany while placing that country in a kind of mental exile... never to be spoken out loud.

Even if one's contemplated trip to 'Eretz Yisrael' is not meant as a permanent move, but only a vacation or year of study, how can one simultaneously reject the very existence of the modern State of Israel and tour, study, sleep and eat under the protection of the army and police force who were created, trained and funded by that never-spoken-of entity?  How can one derive benefit and enjoyment from beautiful municipal gardens, zoos and parks and reject the existence of the hand that builds and tills them?

I'm not (G-d forbid!) asking anyone to reject the intrinsic holiness of the Land of Israel when announcing their vacation plans!  But it just seems silly to include a tax-free shopping spree to such places as Eilat in one's travel itinerary (a place outside of Israel's Biblical borders) and yet maintain with a straight face that you are going to 'Eretz Yisrael'

By the same token, if you have no intention of taking in the historically-significant Jewish sites in Jordan or the southern Lebanon (both of which are very much within the borders of Biblical 'Eretz Yisrael'), why make such a show of using only the one phrase while eschewing the other?

I'm not asking you to explain why you feel the need to remind all within earshot of your deep personal connection to the 'Land of Israel'.  I get that.  I simply want to understand why you feel no need to acknowledge... and in fact seem bent on avoiding any acknowledgment of... a legitimate modern country that affords every Jew a host of freedoms, rights and privileges that have been denied us for almost 2000 years?

Let's pretend for a moment that I am an Am Ha'Aretz (an ignoramus)... admittedly not much of a reach... and that every basic assumption I have made here is incorrect or ill-conceived.  Please explain to me (using small words) why you can tell your friends that you are going to England, Italy or Japan... all of which have many ancient regional and historical names other than the ones in use today... but you'd eat a BLT on white with mayo before telling them that you're going to 'Israel'. 

Levels of Indebtedness

A few short steps from my parent's home in Westport, CT is a largely-ignored statue of a Minuteman kneeling with his musket held at the ready.  The statue is strategically placed near the spot where about 2000 British troops came ashore in 1777 on their way to burn the Continental military stores in Danbury.

I can't tell you how many times I've looked at that statue and tried to muster a sense of sadness, or even gratitude... especially around memorial day or the 4th of July.   The wonderful freedoms with which I was raised were bought and paid for by local men like the one represented by the statue ... men who fought and died in the service of their fledgling country.  Yet even memorial day, with it's parades full of aging veterans and flag-dappled cemeteries smelled too much like charcoal and suntan lotion for me to locate that elusive sense of sadness or thanks.

Introspection was never my strong suit, so these small failures to conjure a sense of personal or national gratitude never really cost me very much.  Even after I becoming a veteran of four years service in the navy I couldn't come up with anything close to the emotion that the somber-voiced TV announcements said I should feel on memorial day.

The best I could do was a vague sense of pride at my own small contribution... but no real sense of connectedness to anyone or anything else.

Then I moved to Israel and quickly discovered a few sobering truths. 

First and foremost came the realization that while the War of Independence my local bronze minuteman had fought had ended in 1783 with a formal surrender by the British... Israel's War of Independence is still going on, with no end in sight.

Second, I began to figure out that the emotion I had been trying to tap into was not sadness or gratitude, but indebtedness... and debt isn't something felt equally at all levels.

Take for example a lifelong welfare recipient.  Most or all of what he/she possesses in life can be directly attributed to the monthly checks that magically appear in the mailbox or are deposited directly into the bank.  Under these circumstances, even the most sincere person would be hard pressed to locate a true sense of gratitude after living their whole life on the dole. 

Now think about a close-knit extended family where some relations are fabulously wealthy and others are barely scraping by.  Being family and all, whenever a helping hand is needed funds quietly change hands, food and furniture appear out of nowhere... and debts that can never be repaid lay heavily on the hearts of the poorer relations.

Going out for family dinners amidst such financial disparity is challenging since propriety demands that everyone make a show of grabbing for the check at the end of the meal.  But the poorer relations secretly pray that they will be spared the 'privelege' of picking up the tab and sit terrified at the prospect of having to have to turn out their pockets... and come up short.

Israelis... and by this I mean each individual Israeli... are not welfare recipients, but rather are more like both the rich and poor members of the family.  In the heart of each Israeli beats the boundless gratitude for a bountiful new Jewish country built and defended by a nation of self-made men and women.  Yet in the same heart is the deep shame and trepidation at silently hoping against hope that the check for enjoying such a sumptuous repast be presented to someone... anyone else.

Unfortunately, everyone in the country knows, or is related, to someone who has had to pay the check.  Rare is the Israeli family or neighborhood that hasn't witnessed or experienced the knock at the door... the terrible unspoken message from the officers standing there. 

The relative levels of indebtedness are the key to why the welfare recipients feel little or no sense of personal gratitude... and the poor relations live night and day with a mix of pride and shame at wanting to pay their way, but fearing that the price may be more than they can bear.

In the US I lived in blissful ignorance... safely separated from the men and women who had selflessly picked up the check for me.  The newspaper stories, history lessons and parades meant to remind me that I had been living my whole life at someone else's expense were far too neat and sterile... like a welfare check deposited directly into a numbered account... and only served to insulate me from any sense of indebtedness.  And the smell of burgers and 'dogs sizzling over charcoal put paid to any hopes of thoughtful introspection.

However, in Israel the sense of indebtedness is inescapable.  Those that have taken their chance in uniform and come home unscathed live with low level survivor's guilt.  The great equalizer may have left them untouched to enjoy the meal, but children of the well born and poor alike sleep side by side and are visited by families that are truly equals, if only in their grief. 

These are the people to whom the check was presented... at whose expense we Israelis enjoy our bounty.  We can reach for our wallets and feign our readiness to pay, but we secretly, shamefully sigh with relief when other, colder hands grasp the check.

This level of indebtedness can't be ignored. 

Israelis don't need to look deeply at a statue and hope for inspiration in order to find a fleeting sense of this debt.  The weigh of it is evident in the tear-streaked faces of friends and neighbors to whom the bill came due.  It is there in the wail of the siren as all across the country people stand by silent cars, desks and graves and weep openly at the terrible price of this repast we continue to enjoy.

Yet as incomprehensible as it may seem to an outsider, we do manage to enjoy the meal.  We accomplish this through the trick of paying in advance.

Just as a glass is broken before the first shout of 'Mazal Tov' sounds at a Jewish wedding, so too we temper the joy of our Independence day by spending the preceding day contemplating shattered lives... and examining our debt.

Tomorrow we will head out to cook our burgers and 'dogs with family and friends.  We will play games, drink too much and come home with the season's first sunburn for our carelessness.  To an outsider our Independence Day will look strangely similar to the way others mark the 4th of July, Cinco De Mayo or Bastille Day. 

But those are all celebrations of a comfortable life lived at the expense of a nameless, faceless benefactor... a national welfare of sorts. There is little tangible sense of indebtedness beyond a dusty history lesson and an annual parade.

We Israelis don't need to open history books, watch parades or look at statues to conjure the ghosts of our benefactors.  We were raised by them... grew up with them... went to school with them... gave birth to them and watched them play in the local parks.  We see them on the walls of our friends homes... and sometimes on our own.  They were rich and poor... native born and recent immigrant... young and old. 

We all ate together.  Some were left to pay the check... and everyone else feels indebted.

Creating, and discarding, caricatures

[warning:  Those who are bothered, frightened or who become irrational by any mention or discussion of firearms should probably come back another day.  I do not make a habit of talking about guns on this site (less than four treppenwitz posts out of 583 have directly mentioned them... not counting the one regrettable Photo Friday where a tiny bit of my gun was visible in a picture of me making chopped liver), so I sincerely hope that one more post won't give anyone the idea that I have an unhealthy fascination with this topic.  I don't.

One can argue about the role of firearms in personal/home protection... or about the necessary tug-o-war between the right of citizens to bear arms and the government's responsibility to prevent unchecked proliferation of deadly weapons in society.  However, this is neither the place nor the time for that argument.]

When we arrived in Israel I was fortunate (blessed, even) to be hired almost immediately for a job in my field with one of Israel's largest and most prestigious companies.  However, it quickly became apparent that no matter which route I would be driving to work, I would routinely have to travel through potentially problematic areas where stones, Molotov cocktails, bullets and even bombs were sometimes directed at passing cars. 

Add to this the fact that something as simple as a late-evening flat tire on one of the more remote stretches of road could make me an inviting target-of-opportunity for a normally-apolitical Palestinian who, on the spur of the moment, might decide to vent some pent-up frustration against an Israeli.

Not only did I start out wearing a bullet proof vest during my daily commute, but I also made the decision to carry a pistol (a Glock 19C, in case you were curious).   

Within half a year I joined the rotation of residents in my community who stood 4 hours of guard duty a month... and six months later I was asked to join the town's Kitat Konenut (an anti-terrorist emergency response team) which entailed the army issuing me both an M-16 assault rifle and a license to carry it.

In less than a year I went from mild-mannered suburban Connecticut daddy to having more firepower at my disposal than many Montana militias. 

But for all the surreality of this lethal hardware locked up around the house... my basic dislike of guns still kept me from seeing myself the way I would surely be perceived by those who didn't know me; as a typical gun-toting settler.

Rare is the media photograph of any settlers that doesn't include one or more prominently positioned guns. The media has deliberately presented an inaccurate stereotype of settlers who, if not carrying an M-16 slung casually over their shoulder, at least have the ubiquitous pistol poking out from the waistband of their pants. 

Now, I can assure you that while some settlers (including your host) are routinely armed, such armament is far from de rigueur over the green line. 

I'll be the first to admit that, by necessity, guns are a somewhat common sight in many settlements.  But a Haaretz reader in Ramat Gan who has never been to Efrat could be forgiven for mistakenly assuming that every single settler carries a gun... especially if this idea is supported by photographic evidence that regularly appears in his/her paper of choice.

By the same token, a reader of Arutz Sheva could be forgiven for mistakenly thinking that the entire Palestinian population of Judea, Samaria and Gaza was split fairly evenly between active membership in Hamas, Islamic Jihad and the Al Aqsa Martyr's Brigade (with most Israeli Arabs merely rooting for one or more of these organizations)... especially as almost every Palestinian pictured on Arutz Sheva seems to be masked and/or brandishing a weapon.

The point I'm trying to make is that what we see can't help but influence our (mostly inaccurate)personal opinions and prejudices... and each time we see something that reinforces a stereotype in which we've been encouraged to believe... we smile and congratulate ourselves on being so well informed.

It is for this reason that whenever I travel to Gush Dan (the greater Tel Aviv/central coastal region), I usually make a concerted effort to carry my gun in as unobtrusive a manner as possible.

At first this meant simply draping my shirt-tail over the butt of my pistol, or blousing the back of my shirt in such a way that the gun was mostly obscured from view.  But these half-measures usually failed to completely hide the fact that I was armed... especially when the security guard at the entrance to every store, cafe or office building looks at my kippah, waves a metal detector down my back and asks 'Are you armed?' when the magic wand goes beep.

On more than one occasion I have been lectured loudly by Tel Aviv store owners and shoppers about how I (as a settler) am an obstacle to peace... and how my presence in the territories is both illegal and a direct provocation to Palestinian violence.  One such store matron simply pointed at the door and said, "I don't need your settler money and I don't want a settler in my store".

It was after this experience that I decided, aside from the few people who know me personally, I wasn't going to change people's minds about stereotypical gun-toting settlers... so I would try to avoid a 'look' that would confirm stranger's worldview of 'people like me'.

I often took to wearing a baseball cap instead of a kippah on trips to Tel Aviv.  I even began sometimes wearing my pistol in a Fanny Pack (the kind worn in the front) with a quick-release zipper, or inside the front of my pants in a device alternately called 'Thunderwear' (I know... giggle-worthy) or 'Smart Carry' that I'd originally purchased for jogging and cycling.

The scary part is that with a Red Sox cap and one of these two concealed-carry methods, security guards mostly stopped asking me if I was armed.  The few that waved their electronic wands up and down my back failed to detect the loaded 9mm pistol sitting against the front of my body! 

This has lead me to lecture more than a few security guards about laziness and ineffective work habits. 

Surely if I can walk into a restaurant, office building or bookstore with an undetected handgun, the possibilities are endless for someone bent on carrying out a terrorist attack.  Likewise, several young women I know who carry handguns in their purses or fanny packs are frequently shocked to note that security guards routinely let them pass without so much as a glance.  Certainly there have been a sufficient number of attacks carried out by the fairer sex to warrant a certain level of gender-blindness in our security precautions, right?

All this obviously boils down to various aspects of 'profiling'. 

Some will say profiling is illegal, immoral... or perhaps simply a necessary evil.  I think I've mentioned in the past how I feel on this subject.  But isn't treating all settlers as 'gun-toting lunatics' in any discussion of their rights and/or actions also a form of profiling?  And to my way of thinking, it is surreal to do so while willfully ignoring or discounting the reason someone might feel it prudent to arm themselves. 

I mean really, I have friends who have told me to my face they are too frightened to come visit me in the 'dangerous area' where I live... yet they find it provocative and distasteful that 'most'* settlers carry guns.  These friends see no incongruity or contradiction whatsoever in holding these two fears and prejudices side-by-side amongst their collected personal wisdom and opinions.

There are so many very real social, ethnic, criminal, security and economic problems that exist in Israel and the middle east today that I honestly don't understand our need to categorize, defame and profile one another in order to feel better about ourselves. 

Yes, I am a settler... but not all settlers carry guns. 

Yes, I carry a gun... but my sincerest hope (a hope shared by most gun owners I know) is that I'll never have to fire a shot in anger. 

Yes, I may look like someone you have been raised or indoctrinated to fear and/or hate, but if you set aside those biases you'd see I am as unique an individual as anyone else in the world. 

If as an enlightened Israeli I'm expected to shed my prejudices and look at Arabs as individuals and appreciate their rich cultural tapestry of opinions, customs, aspirations, fears and feelings... certainly I have a right to ask you to accept the possibility that I am also more complex than the two-dimensional settler caricature the media wants you to see when you look at me.

* I have not seen any statistical information to support my opinion, but my personal observations and experiences tell me that a modest minority of settlers are actually armed.